


Easily Broken

by tardisfalls



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dark, Dark Fanfiction, Dark Past, Feral Behavior, Fist Fights, Multi, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisfalls/pseuds/tardisfalls
Summary: You find out something you shouldn't--your boyfriend, Rafael Barba, turns out to be something you never thought he would.
Relationships: Nevada Ramirez/Reader, Rafael Barba/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	Easily Broken

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr: metachorism :)

You hadn’t meant to find out this way.

In fact, you—nor anyone else, for that matter—was meant to find out at all. The façade of someone so generous, caring and (almost) loving was all a clever sham set up by a dangerous man to keep anonymity and safety to his title.

Yet you had to use that head of yours just once and gathered any evidence there was about said Dangerous-Man and eventually came to a suspect. An identical match, actually. A CCTV photo had been taken almost ten years ago outside a local family-owned store—two large bodyguard looking men stood side by side with a smaller man dressed in black and held a duffel-bag (though, contents of that bag weren’t shared). The photo was grainy, but the face was recognizable despite the angle the camera was pointed at.

Very recognizable.

The report made ten years ago was that a burglar had stolen one-hundred-thousand worth of cash, the name of the culprit being _El Trujillo_. A household name… but not in a good way. Trujillo was feared by plenty of the lower-class in New York, immigrants who got favors from him only to be in his debt for the rest of their life and those debts reached further than judge monthly payments—they included homicide, theft, dealing, rape.

Even kids were killed. _Kids_.

So you couldn’t believe your eyes when the grainy face was none other than your (almost) co-worker A. DA Rafael Barba. (Unless he had an evil twin… Or an evil clone running around New York and causing havoc for the past thirty-six years). Your heart almost stopped beating as you stared at the picture.

Your heart _did_ stop beating when you remembered your year long affair with Rafael Barba—that Rafael Barba was inside your apartment. In your shower. After you slept with him.

Oh god. You slept with… Trujillo.

Bile sours your jaw, the intense feeling of sickness makes its way up your throat and you’re holding it just in time to make it to the kitchen sink—throwing up the contents of your stomach.

Why had you taken work home? Olivia told you that it wasn’t a good idea (especially because it was a private case, anyway. If a landlord peeked on the paperwork then you’d lose your job and the case would have been stopped and then re-started all over again).

As you’re running the faucet to drain the sink of your vomit, splashing some clean, cold water on your face and grabbing a glass to wash your mouth out, your thoughts are loud in your ears—like you’re stuck in a crowded mall at holiday season. You don’t notice that your not-boyfriend had heard you belch and had been so concerned he had left the bathroom to come to your aid.

You didn’t hear him enter your kitchen and no, you also didn’t see him eye the security photos that lay on the dining table.

“You know no one will believe you?” His voice makes you jump. Your back is turned to him and you don’t have the confidence to move—frozen in place.

Your heart hammers in your chest at his voice. You feel sick again. Your stomach does flips over and over again, knees feel weak and light and every nerve in your body is like static from the rusty trampoline springs you received as a child—you often got this feeling around him but in a total different way. It would’ve been out of love, but within a matter of minutes it had turned into fear.

Rafael notices your silence, he takes a quiet step in your direction. Your eyes are squeezed shut, those thoughts getting louder and louder with blood rushing through your ears—it’s all too much for you to handle. You don’t know what’s coming next, can you defuse it before it becomes a bigger problem than it is? Can you pretend to be on his side until you can get help?

What do you _do_?

“As far as they know, I’ve been working as an A. DA for twenty-one years. You think they’ll believe some… _Overworked_ , _tired_ and _disillusion_ Detective that I’m the one they’ve been looking for for the past thirty years?”

With a shaky breath, you reply, hands tight on the counter-top to keep you standing otherwise your legs would give out. “We’ve found out worse. Judges that have been apart of sex trafficking rings—some lowlife Lawyer being the _King Of The Heights_ will only add to it.”

Your edge in your voice had only been present as you put on the bad-cop act. An act that worked only with the people in your custody, where you knew they wouldn’t get away with what they had done (and mostly because you were in a safe and well guarded place with a weapon on your hip). It wavered and it wasn’t confident.

To your right is a knife with a sharp rigid steak knife that had been used to cut into a thick steak earlier on from the night, it had been washed and it was on the rack drying. You didn’t have your gun on you, but that was the best you had closest to you.

It was an option, sure. But would you really have the heart to hurt Rafael? The new information you learned was frightening, but the thought of hurting him didn’t sit right with you. You told him you loved him this morning before you left for work with a kiss on his lips, during dinner, while you shared time in your bed—you cannot face him now, but you really don’t know what to think or what to feel.

Two hands grab your waist and spin you around to face him, pressing you against the counter-top—caged in his arms yet he’s kind enough to keep at least some distance to you.

His green eyes narrow, his shoulders shimmy as he stared right through your being. Deciphering your act within seconds.

“Olivia isn’t thick. If I found out then she will too.” The vulnerable, teary waver in your voice is seconds away from breaking down. Your eyes grow glassy, tears stinging your lids.

Rafael barks out a laugh, a huff of air leaving his nose, leaning forward a little to rest his weight on his hands.

“I think you’ll be surprised. The amount of people I have wrapped around my finger,” he positions his face level to yours, nose a few millimetres from your own. From the side, it looks as if you’re in a position to close the gap and kiss him—but it’s far from the reality. “In fact, they might think it’s a bit too convenient that you—out of all people—found exactly who they were looking for after what? Four days being on the case? Six? All by yourself?”

“What? Have I scared you into submission?” He taunts your silence. The way you’re tensing and shaking as you stare at him—he caught you off guard, you had no time to prepare to act _Bad-Cop_ no matter how hard you tried.

Four knocks come from the outside of your front door. It was late at night and you weren’t expecting any visitors (you had also asked your colleagues to leave you alone tonight, no calls, nothing). Rafael’s head snaps to the side to where the sound came from—he was caught off guard, too.

A feminine voice comes from outside, she says your name in her kind (and concerned) tone. _Olivia_.

You panic. Safety is right outside that door and all you need to do is get there and into her arms, tell her what you found and then be _safe_. With a sharp inhale, your hand darts out to the knife, grabbing it tight and then bringing it back—slashing him, as hard as you could, in his arm—you kick him away from you and make a dash for the door.

“Oliv—!”

His large hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back flush against him, his other arm wrapping around your stomach, holding you as tight as he could. Your elbow swings back and jabs him in the ribs and making a quick dash for the door.

You don’t get far as his leg sticks out and trips you over, falling onto the polished hardwood floor.

Olivia hears the commotion, but not as loud as it was inside. Damn the thick walls of your apartment. She frowns and knocks, calling your name again. No answer.

He pulls you back by the ankle and drags you back, swinging a leg over your hip and straddling your backside. Rafael weaves his fingers into your hair, yanking it back then slamming it onto the floor. Once, twice until he hits hard enough that an audible crack comes from your nose, blood quickly finding its way out of your nostrils in a quick stream.

Clapping a hand over your mouth, straining any movement from your body. “Shut the fuck up.” He hisses, sneering.

Olivia waits outside your door for a total of two minutes, checking her watch every few seconds, her legs were tired for carrying her all day and she only stopped by after her shift to check if you were okay. Two minutes seemed to be enough for her to call it quits and go home to her comfy bed.

“I’ll phone you later, okay? Just.. let me know if you’re okay. We care about you—all of us, we’re here for you.” There was a pause, “Don’t be afraid to confine in one of us. Even if it’s Barba—just don’t let this case bring you down.”

 _Ironic_ much? If she could see through doors, you would be safe right now—in her arms while she protected you. But you were quite literally brought down by this case—the culprit being the person who she said to speak to.

Rafael’s hand presses harder back on your mouth in turn tilting your head upwards and straining your neck as you tried to move forward (even when trapped beneath his body) your muffled screams of her name were hardly heard from the palm of his hand.

The sound of her heels walking away from your door and the barely-there vibration against your flat-on-the-floor chest told you that she wasn’t going to stay or try and open the door. To be your savoir when you really needed her. She was gone.

Why hadn’t you given her a key?

The only sounds that were heard in the loud silence was your deep intakes of air through your covered nose, Rafael’s deep exhales of air as he collected himself—you felt the hot air from his mouth against your ear and the lobe beside it.

You were terrified.

“You’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to listen good.” He says, he shifts so he’s in a sitting position on your spine. “I’m going to let you go, you’re not going to say a thing or I’ll take that knife and slit your throat before you get the chance to run.”

“Do you understand?”

You nod, it’s all you can do, and he waits seconds before he takes his blood-covered hand from your mouth cautiously, the very real risk of you screaming for your lieutenant to return. But you don’t, you listen to him and do as you’re told—biting the inside of your cheek, breaking the skin to keep your mouth shut.

Your eyes close and you try and regulate your breathing (as best as you could with a busted nose), your heart still hammering in your chest.

—-

“Any higher and you would’ve hit an artery.” Rafael informs you, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth as the alcohol wipe seeps through his wound. He had dragged you to sit at the dining table, wrapped your wrists tightly together with a tie that he had taken off hours prior. He was by the sink, the faucet running as he cleaned the mixture of both his own and your blood from his skin.

“You got lucky.”

“No, you’re just stupid.” He bites back. He’s right.

You should’ve gone gone for his neck.

As he continues to patch himself up, many different scenarios run through your mind. One sticking out more than the rest— _how is he going to kill you_?

You’ve seen what he’s capable of and they were bad. Horrible deaths that only an insane person would think of.

You could only wonder how he had put on a friendly façade on for the years you knew him. It made you wonder about those feelings he said he had for you were fake—to go along with his little persona to make it look real. It made you feel cheap—a plastic pawn from a knock-off chess board-game. Easily broken.

Your nose stung, it was blocked and every twitch your cheeks made in retaliation made it hurt more. The blood that streamed from it had calmed, but every now and then it drips down past the crest of your lips and down your chin. He had broken it, you were sure.

“I could kill you,” he says. You swallow hard. “Get my guys to frame it as a suicide. Go to your funeral and cry my eyes with your friends.” The words roll from his tongue

“But?” You reply, a shaky breath.

Rafael turns to you, leering at you beneath dark eyebrows with a much darker expression. Your eyes dart to the quite large slash in his arm, you could see the red inflamed skin beneath his white skin—whitish yellow fat at between it—blood had rose back up. It was deep, but not enough for him to be physically vulnerable because of it.

“But you’re right. Olivia isn’t thick, she’s certainly good at her job. If you were able to figure it out then so can she.” Rafael’s eyes flicker to yours, “But I’m going to keep you alive—for now—and you’re going to check in a few favors for me.”


End file.
